A Very Poor Experience
by Lioness Black
Summary: [PostRENT. Oneshot.] Mark angsts about the awkwardness a night with Roger has left their relationship.


Title: A Very Poor Experience   
Author: Lioness Black  
Rating: R/M  
Warnings: Sex in various forms. Yaay. Character death. Boo.  
Disclaimer: Not mine, just good fun.

* * *

Things were awkward.

Okay, I'll admit. I wasn't really sure what I was expecting. I just wasn't expecting things to turn out so badly. I'm sure I had high expectations in the back of my mind. Months of fantasy to build up to this? It wasn't all bad. Some of it was great. I guess if I averaged it out, it was poor. A very poor experience.

Now things were strange. Roger and I were passing glances at each other and we would both quickly look away. I looked into my coffee. In a normal situation, I would have offered him some, but would "Want some coffee?" translate into "Why was our sex so poor?"

I wasn't sure. I said nothing at all.

Roger got his own coffee.

How did we get to this? How did this even begin to happen? Things started off so great.

Well, that's not true. Things started off shitty. Things started off with Mimi's death. That's where it really starts. Mimi fought, but she didn't make it to her twenty-first birthday. She missed it by three weeks.

Roger was devastated. We all were, but it hit Roger the hardest. He tried to fall back into his old patterns of never leaving the loft. I wasn't going to let him. Not this time, not after Mimi spent the last year and a half of her life telling Roger that his life was meant to be lived.

I guess Roger listened to me. Or maybe he was listening to her. No idea. Either way, Roger only let himself be a hermit for a month. After that, he began to live again.

Going on the fact that I hadn't had a girlfriend since Maureen, and in the year and half after she dumped me, had only gotten laid twice, I'm going to assume that I wanted to fuck Roger long before he wanted to fuck me. I mean, until those last couple of months, he and Mimi did it like _rabbits_. I should know, I was kept awake every night listening to them. Listening to them and jacking off.

At the time, I didn't realize that it was Roger, specifically, I wanted to fuck. I just figured that I was horny and lonely when little things would strike me.

One night I came home and found Roger asleep on the couch. He was stretched out, his arms up over his head. His t-shirt had ridden up, showing about four or five inches of his stomach. I was fascinated, watching his stomach move, my eyes following the trail of hair under his navel, leading into his jeans.

I've learned that lonely doesn't cause full on erections that make you come twice.

It kept happening. Stupid things, the way he'd strum at his guitar, his fingers moving over the strings. I wished those strings were my chest. Whoops, bathroom break. Keep the moaning to a minimum. Clean up on isle sixty-nine.

Do you know how hard it is to wipe a come smear off of a mirror when you don't own glass cleaner?

This went on for I don't know how long. However long it took me to go through two tubes of lube. I had a brand new tube that I was going to try and not use (and was planning to fail) that night. Last night.

I was coming out of the shower, wearing nothing but a towel as I walked across the loft toward my room.

"Oh, fuck."

I turned and looked at Roger. He was staring at me. "What?"

"Fuck."

"_What_?"

"I can't take it anymore! Not when you walk around like that! Everything you do, it makes me feel like I'm going to explode!" Roger paced in a little circle. He looked back at me, and held his hands out. They were shaking. "I... want to fuck you."

"Fu...muh?" Those aren't words, I realize. It translated into "Fuck me?"

He didn't reply. He walked across the room and kissed me. It was a hard kiss, his mouth pressing against mine, his teeth digging into the flesh of my lips.

When he pulled away, his lips were red. I ran my tongue along the outside of my mouth, tasting what had just happened. That kiss was way beyond average.

"You've been...?" I trailed off. Roger was kissing my neck. My knees were going weak.

"Everything you do," he replied between kisses, "gets me off. It has for a long time."

Okay. It's not romantic. I am certain that Roger and I have never been, and are not in love. I hadn't been laid in nine months (and hadn't been laid _well_ since Maureen). His girlfriend died four months ago. We were lonely, and pretty much the only people we ever saw.

It was lust, pure and simple. I've been swept up by lust before.

Roger whipped off my towel and dropped to his knees.

"Are you sure this is a-- Ohhhh... good, gaaaaaaaah!"

Right there in the middle of the loft, Roger gave me, quite possibly, the best blowjob I've ever received in my life.

I fell to my knees and kissed him on the mouth. Then I pulled off his t-shirt unbuttoned his jeans. His hands were running up and down my thighs. I was trying to find the button on his boxers so I could properly get to his dick.

"Condom," Roger said. I looked up and our eyes met.

I don't think two people have ever run to a bedroom faster than we did at that moment. He tripped over his jeans that were around his ankles and kicked them off on the way. Just as well.

This, all of this, was good. This was great. I liked Roger sucking me off. I liked putting the condom on him and giving him a blowjob. I like how he grabbed my hair when he came and growled my name. I liked feeling of his come hitting the inside of the condom against my tongue.

I wonder what that morning would have been like if we'd stopped there. Stopped there before things went so poorly.

It wasn't exactly the sex. Well, yeah, it was the sex.

I've never had my legs up over my head before. Even with all the kinky shit Maureen talked me into, I've never been assfucked. Things went well, until Roger went soft.

We stared at each other for a moment. Roger threw back his head and moaned my name.

"Did you just fake an orgasm?" I asked. My eyes had to have been three times their normal size.

"No," he replied.

I pulled myself away from the tangle we were in and stood. "No one has ever faked an orgasm on me before. Not even Maureen. If she didn't come, she just asked me what the hell I was doing wrong. You- I- What?"

"I don't know what happened," Roger said. "Everything was... oh, nevermind."

"You're a guy! You can't fake an orgasm!"

I'm going to bet a hundred bucks (that I don't have) that the entire building heard me yelling that.

"I know that! Now."

I left the room. I stalked into my room and closed the door. I didn't sleep.

I kept telling myself that it wasn't my fault. I wasn't the one who lost the hard on. I tried to rationalize it. Maybe it was just too soon after he had just come.

If I had been the object of his lust, as he had been mine, why did this happen?

Maybe I wasn't as desirable? Sure, I'm not one to think of myself as being very attractive, especially compared to Roger who is like a god, but I'm at least a decent looking guy. What were the odds, though, that Roger would be wondering what had gone wrong, because he doesn't see himself as being much of anything and sees me as a god?

Of course, maybe Roger just realized that he was fucking a guy. Maybe I'm just gayer.

I looked into my coffee the next morning. Would things ever be the same? Did I want them to be the same?

Roger was walking away with his own coffee when I said his name. He turned. He didn't look me in the eye, he looked past my head at the wall behind me.

"Yeah?"

"What happened last night?"

He frowned. "I don't know."

"Did you really want me?"

"Mark, I've wanted you since before Mimi died. She knew it and told me to go after you, but I couldn't leave her, not when I knew she was almost gone."

I felt a lump building in my throat.

"She made me promise that I would at least tell you how I felt. Last night was the first time I got up the nerve. When I realized that you might have felt the same way about me. And... when we were... I just got to thinking about her, and her laughing at me, not mean, but just laughing, her joking around that I was pathetic, and... our sex made me think of Mimi, and I missed her so bad then, that I couldn't do it anymore."

I think I started crying. I missed Mimi too.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Mark. I never wanted to..."

I was already up and walking to him. I wrapped my arms around him and we held each other for a moment. We were apologizing and grieving all at the same time.

Roger and I are certainly not in love. Not yet, anyway.

Next time, would be a better experience. Just because we were poor once, doesn't mean we always will be.

The next time Roger loses a hard on, because I'm betting that it won't be the last time, he would admit to it instead of trying to fake his way out. Because obviously, that isn't working.


End file.
